


(attempt to) kiss the boy

by sheithkeef



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, be prepared to get 18 cavities, crying highkey, ever listen to kiss the girl, my contribution to keith's birthday, yeah that except it's ashley tisdale singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-22 04:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12473924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheithkeef/pseuds/sheithkeef
Summary: “Who is he staring at?”“Who--oh…my god…”“What?!”“It’s chemistry Keith,” Lance whispers, and Shiro is brought back to the conversation happening before him.“What?”“Shiro,” Lance punches him repeatedly, a wicked grin growing on his face, “that’s chemistry Keith, isn’t it?”-Or Shiro has been pining after Keith, a boy he happened to glance at in his chemistry class, for four years.And now Keith is looking back.





	1. PART I: looks like the boy's too shy

**Author's Note:**

> or i heard kiss the girl after almost ten years and it suddenly hit me how i could contribute to keith's birthday.
> 
> i pulled this sappy trash love story out of my ass; hope you enjoy :)
> 
> and happy birthday to our favorite space spicy boi!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or shiro is a fucking mess and we get a front row seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is supposed to be for keith's birthday but that was yesterday i'm so so sorry cry.

**PART I**

 

The first time Shiro saw Keith was during chemistry class. He only remembered because his lab partner was Lance that year, and he easily picked up on how skittish he had suddenly become when he realized that Keith existed. After that realization, all that followed were stupid puns about how Shiro had to figure out whether he had chemistry with the boy. It was worse when they were working with Bunsen Burners.

“Come on Shiro, don’t you wanna see how your chemistry with him is just heating up?”

Shiro and Lance were somehow still friends. He didn’t know why, but they were, and he was okay with it; to an extent.

That was freshman year, the first time his eyes fell upon the boy that had the spirit of every mystery novel Shiro read when he was young following his every step. As the years passed and they grew from naive high schoolers into soon to be college students, Shiro never forgot about Keith from chemistry class. Yes, he was only a blur in the hallway or a speck in the corner of his eye, but he was relevant. People have come into Shiro’s life and left just as fast during the past three years, but even though Keith was the farthest thing from relevant, he felt like he resonated with him.

Despite the fact that he hasn’t said a single word to him.

That changed on the seventh day of senior year.

The next time Shiro saw Keith (and by saw, he means saw Keith), it was in the cafeteria, while he was sandwiched between Hunk and Lance, who managed to still talk cheerfully and avoid their friend’s suddenly rigid body.

Why was his body turned to stone?

Well, Keith had decided to choose a different spot to sit in this year, and it happened to be right in front of Shiro’s table. He sat down, his back facing Shiro and his hair in a tight ponytail.

When his heart dropped and his fingers started shaking in anticipation, Shiro made a note that Keith was now much more than relevant. Shiro was fucking pining after a boy he’s barely said a word to. Not even a firm nod in the hallway. Keith doesn’t know Shiro at all, not even his name (unless he keeps up with the sports teams; and he doesn’t feel like he does).

Lance stops talking momentarily, turning suspiciously to Shiro who had been uncharacteristically quiet.

“Shiro…?”

His attention isn’t on Lance, but instead on Keith, who he’s gazing at with his chin digging into his palm.

“Who is he staring at?”

“Who--oh…my god…”

“What?!”

“It’s chemistry Keith,” Lance whispers, and Shiro is brought back to the conversation happening before him.

“What?”

“Shiro,” Lance punches him repeatedly, a wicked grin growing on his face, “that’s chemistry Keith, isn’t it?”

“Don’t call him that,” Shiro whispers back, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket, “he doesn’t know who I am. Won’t it be weird if we suddenly refer to him with a nickname?!”

“You still have a crush on him?” He snickers, completely ignoring Shiro’s well-implied threat, “I can’t believe it! No wonder you haven’t been taking the bait whenever I try to get you cuffed!”

“I don’t know what language you’re speaking,” Shiro comments, his eyes never tearing away from the boy. He had just gotten to analyzing the ponytail. He didn’t have it during freshman or sophomore year. Maybe he was trying to grow it out?

Shiro wanted to see what it looked like loose.

“Shiro!”

He snaps back to reality again, looking at Hunk now.

“Who’s chemistry Keith?”

“So in freshman year, Shiro and I met in chemistry class. A month or so in, Keith transferred into our class. It happened to be a lab day, and one look later Shiro was a fucking mess. He has deadass had a crush on him ever since.”

“Stop it!” He mutters quietly, watching as Keith gets up from his seat, sauntering over to the garbage can to throw away his trash.

“Shiro. If you really still got the hots for him, then that means it’s been a sad four years of watching from afar, your puppy love crushing you until you are nothing but a pancake.”

“You paint such a beautiful picture,” Shiro rolls his eyes, tousling his hair around nervously. He was aware that his long-established infatuation for Keith couldn’t possibly be reasonable or healthy, but at the same time he still kept it up. He was goddamn irresistible. His feelings spoke volumes simply because he’s never known Keith other than the mere instances they crossed paths.

He knew he liked to draw; he would see his art hanging in the school hallways; enormous murals surrounded him, each one signed with Keith’s name. It was either that or a teacher was showing his work off in one of the mandatory art classes.

So much recognition for his talents, yet Shiro never heard a word about him.

“Hey, Keith!”

Shiro’s eyes widen at the sound of Lance’s eager voice calling out for the same boy he was mentally drooling over. Alarmed, he immediately turns left and right, trying to find a place to hide. When he fails (and considers jumping under the table before deciding that would make him look weirder), he has no choice but to face whatever hell Lance is about to set up for him.

Keith turns around timidly, his eyes glossed over with confusion and a hint of innocence that Shiro swears he can’t understand but loves at the same time. He sees a glint of purple lining his irises, and his heart starts thumping loudly in his ears.

“Do you think that you and my friend Shiro could have chemistry?”

Keith rolls his eyes, and just like that he turns around and walks away. Shiro can’t admire his frontal features up close anymore, and he wants to kill Lance more than he’s ever wanted to before.

“You fucking idiot!” He exclaims, shoving Lance hard enough to topple him off of his chair.

“What?!” He chuckles, “I swear it’s a valid question.”

“I’m walking away now,” Shiro gets up with a huff, “follow me, and I punch you in the face.”

“Maybe that turns me on, Takashi!”

Shiro ignores him, hoping to catch Keith before he disappears. Of course, Lance would take this one thing he considers serious, and make it a joke. It was his nature, yes, but sometimes he simply needed to tame his antics.

“Keith!” He calls out as soon as the cafeteria door shuts behind him, catching Keith walking down the hallway in a huff, “Keith, please!”

He doesn’t seem to have any intentions of stopping, and though Shiro knows there will be many more opportunities to talk to him, he feels like this is the last one. After this, he feels that he’ll lose his grip on the boy he was never able to hold in the first place.

So he shouts out the first thing he can think of.

“I love your art, Keith!”

Shiro has to stop himself from dropping on his knees and thanking the Lord right there when Keith slows down. He takes this chance to rush up to him, hoping to stop him from running away entirely.

He slows himself down so he’s face to face with the person who had been nothing but a distant concept. Keith was right in front of him, looking up at him with deep curiosity that Shiro desperately wanted to quench. It was dangerous how much he felt for Keith, from so little interaction.

But Shiro lived for danger.

“Where do you even see my art?”

Fuck. His voice sounds heavenly.

“I—“ Shiro slows himself down. Now was not the time to fuck things up.

“Hm?”

“It’s everywhere. Your art, I mean. Your name’s on every mural and painting the school has.”

“Oh…” His hand reaches for the back of his neck, rubbing softly, “thanks.”

Keith’s blushing. He’s blushing, and in Shiro’s eyes, he looks even more precious than he did before. With rosy cheeks complimenting his dark lilac eyes, it just worked. Everything about Keith clicked and functioned perfectly. Of course he’s an artist; his face is a fucking _work of art_.

“I mean,” Shiro tries to be funny now, “do they pay you?”

“Pay me?”

“You’re literally the reason the school doesn’t look like a prison,” He jokes, and luckily Keith gets it and laughs quietly, covering his mouth with his hand daintily.

“You’re not wrong.”

Though he seems to have broken the ice, he elects to look at the ground afterward, avoiding Shiro’s direct eye contact.

“I’m, sorry about my friend,” He tries a different approach, “he’s just obnoxious as hell.”

“I remember you from chemistry class,” Keith twiddles with his ponytail, “you were always better in the class than most of the students. The science teachers would worship you.”

“Yes, how could I forget…” He laughs at the memory. Looking back on it, that was the year he realized he hated science. He liked reading; history, writing. It spoke to him in a way that never left him disinterested. Stories…he could understand stories on levels science couldn’t exist on.

“What do you want?” He suddenly asks, “F-From me, I mean.”

What does he want?

Shiro wants to take him on dates and make out in the back of his car and entwine their fingers together tight enough to leave bruises. Shiro wants to buy Keith an infinite supply of art supplies and watch him work and create life with a paintbrush. Shiro wants to wake up in the morning next to a sleepy shirtless Keith, his long loose jet black hair sprawled onto his white pillows and the sunlight streaking through his blinds and framing his perfectly sculptured face.

But he doesn’t need to know that yet.

“I, I just wanted to say hi,” Shiro melts at his question, wanting to lean in closer and hold him, his fantasies running a marathon in his head, “I’ve been trying since chemistry class if I'm going to be candid.”

“Two things;” Keith smirks, “Firstly, you’ve been trying to say hi to me for four years?”

“I’m not exactly the best at being social if you haven’t noticed the idiots I’ve decided to befriend.”

A burst of laughter escapes Keith’s lips and Shiro swoons. His eyes crinkle, his face lights up, and when his chin tilts back, his neck is fully exposed and still manages looks beautiful in the shitty school lighting. Shiro doesn’t think he can go back now. He’s in way too deep at this point and he can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. He’s drowning in Keith’s inky amethysts. There’s no escape in sight, and he refuses to find one.

“So what’s the second thing?” Shiro smiles down at him and Keith shrugs.

“Well, I was just wondering who the hell refers to honesty as candidness in a discussion.”

“What?!” Shiro exclaims incredulously, “Plenty of people use that word in a conversation!”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Keith giggles, “sorry.”

“It’s okay,” He sighs happily, leaning against the lockers beside him, finally feeling more relaxed than he did a few minutes ago. Keith bites his lip, tracing the floor with his foot.

“So your name is Takashi?”

“I—how do you know my full name?”

“Your friend shouted it as I was walking out,” A small smile molds into his face, “I know everyone knows you as Shiro, but it was interesting to hear someone call you something else, you know? They didn’t even say it on the first day of school.”

“My full name is Takashi Shirogane,” Shiro offers to explain it to him, “but I’ve been put in the system as Shiro since I was little. Takashi is just too much for some people.”

“It’s Japanese, isn’t it?”

He nods, pleasantly surprised to see that Keith was obviously well rounded.

“It is indeed.”

“It’s a really cool name,” He bites the inside of his cheek, Shiro being able to tell because of how it caves in.

“Thank you, it means a lot.”

“...Shiro?”

“Yes, Keith?”

His heart drops from its place in his chest when Keith dares to take a step closer, decreasing the space between them.

“Why did you wait four years to say hi to me?”

His throat dries when Keith glances up at him, lips parted and eyes wide. Shiro could kiss him now, answer the question with his actions and call it a day. Heart screaming, he tilts his head forward to close the gap indefinitely.

“Keith,” He’s ready to lay it all out to him, despite their first words _still_ being mere moments ago, “I’ve—“

The bell rings, interrupting Shiro forcefully. He clutched his heart, startled by the sudden loud sound and out of his sweet little bubble with Keith. He looks frazzled as well, playing around with his hair nervously.

“I-I guess we gotta go to class now,” He replies, rosy cheeks making a reappearance.

“Yeah,” Shiro laughs sheepishly, closing his eyes and giving him a small grin, “so uh—“

“You won’t have to wait another four years before you see me,” he smiles back, biting his lip softly again “I’ll see you soon, Takashi.”

He waves, running away and turning the corner before Shiro can utter another word.

He still couldn’t handle the fact that he opted to call him _Takashi_ instead of Shiro.

What kind of person did that?

Shiro couldn’t contain his joy for the rest of the day, and everybody noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 is gonna be up tomorrow no doubt.


	2. PART II: don't try to hide it now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or 'shiro's a fucking mess' part ii, but now keith kind of likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_this isn't a whole half month late i don't know what you're talking about._ **
> 
> in reality, i apologize; i got a bit caught up and had to update another work before getting back into this fluffy ass candy ass pureness.

**PART 2**

 

For the next two months, Keith ate lunch with Shiro, Lance, and Hunk. It was certainly less embarrassing for Shiro (especially because he threatened Lance in all seriousness after the last disaster), and his friends learned to see Keith the way he does. Keith, the kid who walked around with a ponytail but was also partially a walking shit-post. Keith who couldn’t stand the smell of popcorn, or when people dyed their hair wild colors (Shiro was definitely questioned for his random white streak. He told him he thought it would look cool, and he _still_ thinks it looks cool). Keith, who has been drawing since he could write and aspired to continue with it for the rest of his life (Keith was amazing at every medium of art he explored; Shiro had an indescribable amount of faith in him).  
  
Yes his friends loved him, and he was happy about that, but he couldn’t get enough of the fact that every second he spent with Keith, his infatuation grew to highs he didn’t know were attainable. Every little thing that Keith managed to do added something unique and beautiful to his disposition and Shiro fucking _loves_ him more and more every day.  
  
So when he asks Keith out on a date in October, nobody is really surprised.  
  
Except for Keith.  
  
_And Shiro_.  
  
It seemed like a great idea at the time, even though Shiro could feel himself shivering as the words left his lips. And _yeah_ it was still a great idea until Lance pointed out that to hide from his opportunity on this date would be the ultimate hit and miss.  
  
It was either make a move now or sit in his room imagining what could have been.  
  
They agreed to just hang out at Keith’s place (this decision was made knowing they would be alone at his house because his father would be working late), but nonetheless, Shiro was still… _freaking out_.  
  
As he stood in front of Keith’s door, knocking lightly due to the simmering shock that he was at his house, Lance’s last words before he left his house abruptly resurface.  
  
_“Shiro,”_ He had said, _“You’ve been a pussy for four years. This is your chance to redeem yourself. Don’t be a pussy this time.”_  
  
Minus the excess use of the word ‘pussy’, he certainly had a point. He couldn’t spoil this time with him, or god knows if there was any hope for him and Keith. He wanted so much yet he was so afraid to take the big steps, he just stood by, chilling in his own burning pit of agony.  
  
The front door opens, startling Shiro when Keith appears. He looks cute, not that he was expecting anything less. Keith wasn’t even dressed up that much, which Shiro liked anyway because he came in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Not his greatest decision, but Keith happened to be wearing the exact same thing, so he allowed himself to get away with it this one time.  
  
“Hey,” he grins, chin tipped up to meet Shiro’s eyes, “you’re here early.”  
  
“I like to be early,” Shiro starts with the rambling before he can stop himself, “there have been way too many times where I end up being late for things and it just fucks up everybody else’s day and--”  
  
“Shiro, Shiro,” Keith’s smile stays stagnant on his face as he steps to the side, inviting Shiro inside his house, “just come in, yeah?”  
  
Shiro takes his first anxious step inside, certain he feels out of place. His subconscious is telling him to take two steps back out, to run away and never come back. He almost felt _guilty_ , stepping into Keith’s home. He perceived that it was a lot more to him than a home; more his safe haven. Being in its presence alone enveloped him in a cozy, homelike warmth that he never wanted to let go of. Though he also had to remind himself that this was _Keith’s_ home, _Keith’s_ sanctuary. He was simply an observer.  
  
An overly intrigued, and smitten observer.  
  
“So uh, this is my house?”  
  
Shiro bites his lip, looking around. Though it looked intimidating from the outside, his apprehension abated once he had gotten a clear look on the inside. The house was obviously covered in Keith’s mesmerizing art, every corner of the house smeared with colors. It was better than any rainbow Shiro had ever seen; there was too much meaning springing out of every work, he could barely find one to focus on.  
  
Though Shiro knew he wasn’t as close to Keith as he could be, he considered knowing him through his art as a way of understanding him. The boy cast definition into every stroke and pencil line on a canvas. Shiro’s heart panged at an unbearable frequency when he admired Keith’s work, and he could rave about it for all eternity.  
  
After all, it was such a big part of his personality that he couldn’t help but love it as much as he loved seeing him every day.  
  
“I’m not sure what you want to do,” Keith toes his slippers off (which Shiro didn’t even notice were on his feet), “I have movies, uh…we could order pizza too? I know this is my house and we planned this, but I _suck_ at this.”  
  
“It’s okay!” Shiro assures him quickly, not wanting Keith to feel bad about anything because, in all honesty, he would have pulled the same thing, “Pizza and a movie is perfect. I’m literally okay with anything.”  
  
“Well, then I’m glad my mediocre planning skills suffice,” Keith gives him another smile before reaching into his pants pocket and fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, “any preference?”  
  
“For pizza, no. For the movie? Yes.”  
  
“Oh?” He chuckles, rubbing a hand on his neck, “What’s your movie preference?”  
  
“Have you ever seen TRON: Legacy?” Shiro questions, tilting an eyebrow in the air curiously, “because that’s an important question.”  
  
His nerves are still slowly melting away, a new layer of slight confidence taking its place. Not too dangerous, but just enough to get him through this moment without making a fool of himself.  
  
“No, I haven’t,” He bites his lip, twirling his phone in between his fingers, “am I to presume that we’re going to watch it tonight?”  
  
“You’ve assumed correctly.” Shiro shoves his hands into his pockets before Keith makes a sound.  
  
“ _Shit_ , I’m sorry; want me to put your coat in the closet? I’m literally a terrible host.”  
  
“No it’s okay,” Shiro tries to put his mind ease him again, “you’re not a bad host. You’re an eighteen-year-old. I get it.”  
  
“I’m usually not this bad,” Keith shrugs, “don’t know what’s wrong with me today. But are you sure you don’t want to put your coat in the closet?”  
  
“It’s fine,” he shrugs off his jacket, but continues to hold it in his hands, “I’ll keep it close.”  
  
Keith nods, dialing the number of the pizzeria and turning his body around, giving Shiro enough time to shake his head in disbelief and tug at his longish hair. He _really_ should have cut it, and he was going to, he _really was_. But the time caught up with him and it was too late to get an appointment. His ends were growing out way too much to his liking.  
  
Besides his hair, he hoped that the rest of the night wouldn’t end up as long and dreadful as he thought it would be. Not from being around Keith, no, but having to tame his _anxieties_ around Keith. The fight to not look like an idiot was on, and Shiro hoped to god he would win.

 

 

{}

 

 

Shiro found himself in a random hallway when Keith excused himself to the bathroom. He had already seen his room, shocked by the empty white walls that occupied the space. Every part of Keith’s house was decorated with his art instead of his own room, and that personally shocked Shiro. Not a single work was there; no frames, no scribbles, no huge canvases, _nothing_.

  
He had also been fortunate enough to see his art studio, where the true messes that resulted in Keith’s masterpieces lived. What really caught his attention was Keith’s last name graffitied onto the wall of the door. It was _huge_ , and definitely proved the point he was meaning to make.  
  
But now he had been left by himself, and despite the voice in his head telling him not to, he couldn’t resist the urge to explore his house. So he took it upon himself to wander in the hallways near Keith bedroom, to play it safe. He stops in front a particular canvas that has angry slashes of different shades of red covering the majority of it, almost no white visible.  
  
“Shiro.”  
  
His head whips around to Keith, who is shutting the door to the bathroom and padding over to him quickly. _Oh god, did he fuck up?_  
  
“Hey,” Shiro looks from the painting Keith, who’s hair is a little messier than before and is sporting rosy cheeks, both sights putting him in distress, “I’m sorry, I was just--”  
  
“It’s okay,” Keith slows himself to a stop, standing beside Shiro as they both turn to acknowledge the work before them.  
  
“Is…is this one yours?”  
  
“They’re all mine,” Keith responds.  
  
“Yeah, I…I figured.”  
  
Silence resumes until Shiro chooses to vocalize what he should have left unspoken.  
  
“Your parents must love your artwork to decorate the house with it.”  
  
Keith blinks a few times, unable to look Shiro in the eyes as he continues to stare the painting that hangs in front of the two of them.  
  
“They--” he sighs, “my father probably doesn’t even notice when another corner of the house turns into a different color.”  
  
The puzzle pieces insert themselves, Shiro realizing his error almost immediately and extremely eager to fix the blunder he had made.  
  
“I’m so sorry Keith,” he apologizes quickly but Keith holds his hand up, indicating that he hadn’t done anything wrong.  
  
“No worries. It’s not like there’s a warning written on my forehead. You didn’t know; I didn’t expect you to.”  
  
He nods, his attention turning back to the abused canvas.  
  
“When did you make this?”  
  
“Probably the day I realized how much the empty house and I had in common.”  
  
Shiro can hear his heart-crushing, his walls tumbling down for the boy that stands beside him. He deserved anything but solitude and Shiro wanted nothing but to take his hand and show him that reality.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“You didn’t know.”  
  
“But I _want to_.”  
  
He catches himself before he says anything more, afraid of scaring Keith away before he got the chance to get close. His eyes stay pinned to the tints of red and fail to notice Keith looking at him with pure adoration.  
  
“Plus, I like it,” Shiro continues, “the passion is evident.”  
  
“I was pissed off and threw red paint at a canvas.” Keith says dryly, “You’re not kidding anyone.”  
  
“But it’s passion nonetheless,” he argues back, “it’s an outlet for your anger. It works really well, and it looks _really_ good. Plus,”  
  
Shiro turns on his heel and looks down at Keith, who tilts his head up expectantly at him,  
  
“I like passion.”  
  
Keith’s mouth parts open, and the fire burning within him only blazes brighter. The urge to kiss him is snowballing at a dangerous rate, and Lance yells in his head,  
  
_‘Don’t be a pussy this time!’_  
  
So he takes the second step in, ready to take Keith in his arms and lean down to seal the gap he’s been dying to seal for four years. But before he can get his hands on his skinny body, the doorbell rings and takes Keith’s attention away from their moment.  
  
“I--the pizza’s here.”  
  
Shiro nods, watching as Keith backs up slowly, before turning around and walking at a normal pace to the stairs. Once he’s disappeared, Shiro drops to his knees and groans quietly into his hands.  
  
Lance would be disappointed.  
  
Once they have their hands on the pizza, they migrate to Keith’s room, where Shiro sets up the movie and Keith dishes out the food. He can sense the tension that they left unattended in the hallway, but he chooses to ignore it for the sake of his own sanity, and the fact that this movie was an _important thing_ for him.  
  
“Prepare yourself,” Shiro informs Keith as they both settle on his bed, “because this is _the_ most intense movie you’ll probably ever watch.”  
  
“I think the most intense movie I’ll ever watch is The Shawshank Redemption, but okay.” Keith raises his eyebrows before taking a bite of his pizza and leaving him in slight awe. He always managed to surprise him in the smallest ways, even to this day. Each time he thought he knew it all, he _didn’t_.  
  
For a majority of the movie, Shiro would look at the screen with wide eyes and full-blown attentiveness, despite watching this movie over sixty times since he turned ten. Keith would ask questions every now and then, and Shiro would lean in closer when he had to refer to the screen or when they would break out into laughing fits. Slowly, but surely, Shiro’s level of comfort around Keith was expanding. Not that he doubted it, but he wasn’t sure how close Keith would let him get.  
  
It seemed just as effortless for him as it was for Shiro himself. So perhaps, his initial plan would work out as he hoped it would. Ready to dive into the void of uncertainty, Shiro clears his throat and calls out to him.  
  
“Keith?”  
  
Keith turns at the mention of his name, his side profile illuminated by the computer screen in front of them. Shiro never found this particular scene of the movie important, so he decided that now was a better time than ever.  
  
“Yeah?” His body moves with his head, angling himself to face him fully. Shiro's nerves return full force, suddenly fearful of what he would think. Tonight was great so far, and he certainly didn’t want to screw anything up. Honestly, it was weird; what he was doing, was _weird_. He’d never done it for anyone before, but he couldn’t help the fact that he was observant. He happened to notice, and to ignore it after taking note of it would trouble him.  
  
So he supposed he was doing this, one way or another.  
  
“I,” He takes a deep breath, reaching into his jacket pocket on the floor, “I got something for you.”  
  
“You got something for me?”  
  
“Yeah; your birthday is tomorrow, isn’t it?”  
  
Keith’s face flames red, so much that Shiro can spot it from a mile away, whether they stayed enveloped in darkness or stood in broad daylight.  
  
“I-I’m sorry. I know this is probably strange for you considering that you didn’t even know me that well until this year…” Shiro rambles on and on, hoping that he can convince Keith not to call the police and have him arrested for stalking.  
  
“How--how do you know my birthday is tomorrow?”  
  
“So um,” Shiro’s hand reaches for the back of his neck nervously, “whenever your birthday comes around, they call it out on the loudspeaker. I only assumed they do that because you’re on the honors society board. But I guess hearing it every year, I remembered?”  
  
Keith’s blush hasn’t tamed and continues to grow when Shiro hands him the small envelope he’d been hiding the entire night. His fingertips are shaking but he knows that the possibility of Keith liking this gift was worth all the trepidation.  
  
“It wasn’t much trouble,” Shiro starts again as he opens the envelope, “I mean it _was_ , because I can’t draw as well as you can, and it’s kind of intimidating to give someone like you this…”  
  
He takes out the small square of paper and now it’s Shiro’s turn to blush as Keith examines his gift.  
  
“I wanted to draw you, for a change, you know? I’m not very good at it, but I figured I’d give it a shot.”  
  
Shiro misses it because of his simmering anxiety, but Keith can’t contain his smile as he looks at the adorable sketch of him next to the words ‘Chemistry Keith’ written in cursive on the side.  
  
“What does ‘Chemistry Keith’ mean, Shiro?” He shows him the picture again, moving close enough that Shiro could probably feel his breath on his skin.  
  
“That’s what Lance used to call you when I was too afraid to find out your last name,” Shiro’s cheeks burn even more, “the nickname stuck throughout the years, and frankly you did too.”  
  
Keith folds up the paper, leaning back as he holds it close to him, closing his eyes thoughtfully,  
  
“This is the best birthday present I’ve ever received.”  
  
“It can’t be…”  
  
“Shiro,” he stops him from protesting, “since I’ve learned to draw, I can’t tell you how many people have asked me to draw for them. It’s _hilarious_ actually, how many people have only approached me to draw them something. But you…”  
  
Keith sighs, throwing his head back dramatically and shaking Shiro’s picture in the air,  
  
“You _drew_ me something!” He laughs, his smile bright and his eyes shimmering brighter than the sun (from what Shiro primarily assumes is the screen, but realizes that they’re tears), “I--no one’s ever _drawn_ me anything before.”  
  
“I…” Shiro’s still hung up on the fact that Keith likes his gift.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he tries to calm himself down, “I’m sorry for the outburst. I guess I’m just…surprised? in a good way?”  
  
He takes Shiro’s hands in his, dropping the sketch beside their bodies. Shiro shudders (not visibly, thank god) as the warmth of his hand encloses onto his. His eyes stay on their hands, unable to look up into Keith’s starry, almost _violet_ eyes.  
  
“ _Thank you_ ,” he says sincerely, “thank you for giving me this.”  
  
Lance’s words immediately echo in the back of his mind. _‘Don’t be a pussy’_ , to be more specific. Still nervous, despite Keith making a move for his hands, he takes the next step forward and lets go of him, reaching up to cup his chin in his right hand.  
  
“Keith,” He starts, unable to find the words to ask his permission, because he felt like asking was an obligation. Especially when it came to him, it struck him as a sin to just touch him without his blessing.  
  
“Keith, can I--”  
  
Keith doesn’t let him finish, his lips nudging against Shiro’s in an almost desperate effort to close the space between them that had been lingering for far too long. His hands ran up Shiro’s upper arms until they graze his neck, prompting him to pull them closer together. Shiro never thought that finally being able to kiss Keith would be this satisfying, that his mouth would feel _this soft_. Shiro hadn’t the slightest inclination that he would taste this sweet, that his hands would slot this suitably into the creases of his hip. Their lips moved together, the need for urgency nonexistent as they thrived in the moment.  
  
Shiro pulled away momentarily, looking up at Keith who had semi-crawled into his lap when he hadn’t been paying any mind.  
  
“You waited four years to say hello to me,” Keith presses his thumb against his lips tenderly, “why the hell would I tell someone like you they couldn’t kiss me?”  
  
And no, Shiro did _not_ expect that sentence to be second most astonishing sentiment he’s ever witnessed before.  
  
The first was watching Keith hang his sketch right above his bed.  
  
The first brush stroke on their empty canvas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everybody enjoyed their cavities (and yes this is my first completed contribution to the voltron fanbase). i currently have one chapter of a sheith wip that i'm totally trying to perfect before releasing chapter 1 so give it a look if you fancy that :D
> 
> thank you again for reading <3


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